A Father's Instinct
by NerdySpaceBean
Summary: Alternate version of Kevin's death, where he sells his soul to Crowley at a young age in order to gain intelligence. Hint of Destiel, because why not. Quite a dark ending, lots of violence. Note: Crowley's Hell is more like Lucifer's Hell in this, I thought it would work better with the story. (Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of the characters.)
1. Prologue

"Hello, boys." Crowley reiterated his infamous catchphrase as Squirrel entered the torture room, closely followed by his angel boyfriend. Both looked sincere as they glared at the King of Hell shackled to the chair that he's been sat in for so long that it had practically become part of him. Then again, the dozy duo was generally serious, what with everything they've been through. _Fools_, Crowley thought to himself. _Letting it get to them. They're so… human._

"Tell us what the deal was." Dean interrupted his thought process, strolling ominously towards the demon.

"I don't follow." Crowley retorted.

"Don't pretend you don't know. You made a deal with him, or one of your cronies did, and now you're going to pay." Dean continued, clearly getting angrier by the second.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Crowley remained nonchalant.

Dean grabbed Crowley's front, one hand hovering over him, threatening a punch. "Listen here, you son of a b-"

"Easy, there, Squirrel. Put me down and we can talk this through." Crowley was slightly concerned now, though he didn't show it. Dean breathed deeply, a furious expression on his face. He showed no signs of letting up.

"Dean…" Castiel chipped in, warning his boyfriend to ease off a bit. Dean glanced over at the angel then sighed, dropping Crowley back into his seat, looking more dishevelled than previously.

"What's happened, exactly?" Crowley inquired innocently. The low growl of a hellhound emanated from outside, and suddenly he knew what had occurred.

"Kevin is dead." Castiel said bluntly in his monotonous voice. The harsh words impacted him like a series of punches. A cocktail of conflicting emotions surged through Crowley in the brief aftermath of the statement. Shock, suspicion, denial. And that was barely a fraction of the full amount. But then, a sense of relief settled over the demon. At least the deal was complete now. He no longer had to worry about it. The pain surely didn't last long, though that was nothing compared to the torture the boy would endure in Hell for the rest of eternity. The thought of that caused a sinking feeling in Crowley's chest. The King of Hell knew the day of Kevin's demise was coming ten years before it actually happened. He'd had plenty of notice. Yet it still came as a shock.

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't pretend you care. You tried to kill him. And caused his death." Castiel snapped. How dare that interfering angel judge him on such matters! He has absolutely no right to dictate the feelings of the King of Hell. And he didn't try to kill Kevin either – he was simply preparing him for the inevitable future ahead of the poor boy. Crowley realised he probably shouldn't let on that he was the one who made the deal, or he was dead for sure. Well, he'd be able to avoid it, but it would be cutting it a bit too close, especially as he was still trapped in chains.

It took every last bit of Crowley's willpower to not respond sarcastically (as was his natural speech pattern as a demon). He shouldn't come across as apathetic, however also couldn't seem too caring. It would make these mop-heads suspicious. Eventually, Crowley created an acceptable response.

"I told him this was gonna happen. I tried to warn him but the kid didn't believe me. I told him to run."

And the demon was eternally frustrated that Kevin didn't listen to him…


	2. Chapter 1

9 ½ years earlier

"Lucy Fern… eight out of ten. Richard Sprite… seven out of ten…" Kevin Tran sat nervously on the edge of his seat at the back of the classroom as he listened to the Maths test results. He had a right to be nervous, as he had gotten terrible marks on the last test. And the one before that. And the one before that. He had studied excessively, yet somehow turned out getting the worst result every time. Maybe, just maybe, this time he might have finally improved.

"…Cassia Teal… nine out of ten…" As he awaited the results with a shaky sense of anticipation, the nine-year-old student clasped his sweaty hands together in his lap. He squeezed his eyes tight. _Please, just get it over with_, he hoped silently.

"…Kevin Tran…" The pause seemed endless between his doom-filled name and the inevitable result that followed.

"…two out of ten."

In that moment, the weight of defeat crushed Kevin's very soul as every other class member turned to stare disapprovingly at him. His eyes darted from one student to the next, making him appear as a startled rabbit caught in the headlights. He felt cornered, pressured into feeling even worse about himself, as if that was even possible. Then, just before the feeling of guilt threatened to overpower the frightened student, a realisation dawned upon him. He didn't have to just let himself be humiliated time and time again. He was going to redeem himself, no matter what it takes. Whether he has to revise all night long, cut out meals or miss sleep, he was determined to up his grades.

Later that night, after his hour of cello practise, Kevin crept upstairs, avoiding his mother after breaking to her the bad news of his test result. When he got to his room, he gently shut the door behind him and reached a finger to the power button on his computer, sitting on his desk chair. Kevin's eyes took on a steely, focused gaze as he waited for his computer to boot up. Once the internet finally loaded, he searched up alternate situations on Google search engine. 'What do I have to do to get something I want really badly?' It read. After a few useless adverts and redirections to websites attempting to sell phones and such, Kevin came across a rather strange website about deals with unholy creatures. At first, Kevin was just going to ignore it, but it intrigued him. As he read on, it described acquiring various items to put in a box that should be buried at a crossroads, which would summon a demon who would then offer anything one desires. Although there was a catch. The recipient or customer of the demon had to trade in their soul after ten years, or less, depending on the circumstances of the contract.

Kevin's brain, being a solidly academic and scientific one (even for nine-years-old), initially retreated from being interested in such drivel, however he was truly desperate now, so forced himself to lean closer to the monitor screen and drink it all in. He knew it was likely a myth, and also knew he shouldn't consider it, especially if it was true. But he needed this. His grades meant everything to him, and would determine the rest of his life, even if it wasn't going to be much longer. Yet, if he didn't do this, what would he do in his considerably longer life? Live in squalor, disowned by his strict mother? Frowned upon by everyone, no money to live on? That was the last thing he wanted. No, he had to do this. It was his last chance to redeem his grades and reputation that was spiralling down at a startling rate. And now was as good a time as any.

After shutting down his computer, Kevin began formulating a plan in his head. The deal would go down tonight, so he needed to think up a schedule of what to do and, more importantly, how to escape from his house without his mother knowing. The front door has many locks attached, plus the house alarm would be triggered before he got within ten metres of the door. He could, of course, figure out the passcode without a problem; however his mother would have already been woken by the noise of the alarm. So, another way then.

Thinking, he scanned his room subconsciously, when his eyes fell on the moon's light (well, technically the sun's light) reflecting off a slender silver object. He remembered what it was in a nanosecond: the grappling hook he made as part of a school project back in grade 2. The threads of a plan weaved together quicker than the metal when Kevin was actually making the gizmo. He could use that to climb out of his bedroom window, which would land him in the back garden, out of sight of his mother's window. He would also land on the grass, so a softer landing that concrete, in case he fell.

Smiling to himself, his victory was cut short when he realised he didn't have any of the items for the box that needed to be buried in order to summon the actual demon. A photo of himself, he could easily find with barely walking two steps, but the others would be more of a challenge. Graveyard dirt, bones of a black cat and yarrow from the centre of a crossroads. There was actually a graveyard on the route home from school, so that could be done. He'd heard of yarrow and knew what it looked like, and he's already elected the crossroads at which the deal would occur. Bone of a black cat, now that was a challenge. Though there's probably some lucky mojo shop around somewhere nearby that would sell such an item. And Kevin still had some pocket money saved up. So that was the plan before any deal would go down.

Over the next few days, Kevin gathered the items. First, the graveyard dirt, which was simple enough. He collected some in a jar he stole from the science lab at school. It wouldn't be missed, and was easy to smuggle home in his backpack. Next, he researched a hoodoo shop and found one a few streets away, so took a detour on the way to school the next day, equipped with money. He felt awkward and rather silly asking the hippie guy at the counter for the bone of a black cat, but he co-operated quite nicely, and Kevin got what he required. The photo he found the night he planned to set off, and it made more sense to gather the yarrow at the crossroads when he got there to make the deal.

Attaching some rope he had acquired from the garage to the grappling hook, Kevin inhaled a deep breath as he arranged his escape mechanism. Clambering over the window frame, he gradually lowered himself down, clutching the cold metal box that indirectly dictated his future. As he dropped on to the lawn, Kevin reconsidered what he was doing, but he knew there was no way back now.

The echoing sound of Kevin's anxious footsteps spelled out his impending doom. Skeletal trees loomed over him as he hurried towards the damned location. As he kept his head down, both arms cradling the box, Kevin reviewed the conditions he would set out as the demon's end of the bargain. _Yes_, he thought. _It should be fine_. Kevin just hoped he wasn't asking for too much. He suspected demons were unpredictable, and didn't want his life to be cut even shorter.

Drifting out of his overactive thoughts, Kevin realised with a jolt that while he'd been so wrapped up in concern for upcoming events, he had arrived at the crossroads. Although he had stood at them just a couple of days ago to set the scene of the deal, which was during the day when the sun shone optimistically on the dusty paths, it looked completely different at night. The harsh light of moonbeams flickered across the abandoned road, shedding an eerie luminosity on the scene. The dust shined silver, the intimidating trees full of starlight. Kevin looked up towards the sky, witnessing the inky blackness consume the remaining sparks of illumination. At that moment, a grey cloud smothered the moon, eliminating the scarce light that allowed Kevin to observe the perturbingly picturesque sight. Reliant on the departed natural radiance, Kevin felt a glimmer of panic erupt inside him, before being reminded of the presence of the torch in the pocket of his jeans. Clicking the 'on' button, Kevin felt immediately reassured. As the beam shed light on the proximate surroundings, he spotted a glint of the bright white petals of yarrow. Striding over to it, he plucked the stem gently from the dry soil, distantly wondering how it survives in such conditions. Kevin opened the metal box and placed the delicate plant inside; scanning the contents to be sure he hadn't forgotten anything. He hadn't.

Crouching down at the centre of the crossroads, Kevin became conscious of the fact that he should probably have brought a trowel in order to bury the box. _Oh well_, he thought. _I'll just have to use my bare hands. _After scraping out enough dirt that the hole was deep enough to contain the box, Kevin positioned it in the ground and cautiously covered it back up with dirt.

For the first few seconds, nothing happened. The sky remained dark, the temperature stayed constant. No flashes of thunder or sudden dramatic hurricanes. Kevin didn't really know what he expected. He was just beginning to feel incredibly stupid for believing the ridiculous tale when a deep voice emanated from the darkness behind him.

"Kevin Tran, I presume." The demon appeared to be a man in his mid-forties, quite short, wearing a long black coat and equally black suit and a tie with a hint of silver. He kept his hands in his pockets and acted relaxed and indifferent. After standing still for a brief moment, he began to advance slowly towards the boy.

Kevin jumped up in fright, shocked by the sudden turn of events. And of course the fact that an actual demon just spoke to him.

"A-Are you… a crossroads d-demon?" he stammered nervously.

"Not just any off-the-speck crossroads demon. _The _crossroads demon. King of, actually." He spoke gently, but in such a tone that it was obvious he should not be messed with. "Name's Crowley."

Kevin wanted to get on with it, however a question was niggling at the back of his mind.

"B-but… Why would the King of the Crossroads want to make a deal with me?" Kevin's words came out quickly as one big jumble, but the unconcerned demon seemed to understand.

"Well, a nine-year-old kid offering up his soul? Quite a biggie down in the underworld. I had to see to this one personally. Wouldn't miss it for the world." Crowley retorted, a hint of a smile playing upon his lips. "So, state your business."

But Kevin wasn't that stupid. "Wait… How do I know you're really a demon?" he gazed warily at the man.

"You don't. Unless I do… Let me see – this." A blast of flame ignited in Crowley's palm just after he finished his sentence. Kevin was amazed, yet not convinced.

"Hmmm… I can tell you're not completely ill-advised, even for one so young, so it'll take more than a bit of pyro kinesis to impress." The fire disappeared along with Crowley as he teleported behind Kevin, causing him to jump and whirl around yet again.

"I can, of course, do much more, but I don't like to be an open book. I'm not one to lay all my cards on the table." The demon (for it was evident now that he was one) smirked enigmatically at Kevin's surprise and fear.

"Ok, ok. So, the deal. How does it work exactly?"

"Was Google not clear enough? To cut a long story short, you"-he pointed at Kevin-"tell me what you desire so much and I"-he gestured to himself-"take your soul. In ten years, that is. Well, it really depends on the contract, but let's call it ten. That's when my dear little hellhounds come knocking at your door- although not so politely – and drag you down below." Crowley still remained calm yet with that underlying sinister tone that unnerved Kevin enormously. "As for the deal going down -Well, let's just say it's supposed to be a little… intimate. I don't know about you, but quite frankly, I definitely don't want that, not with the likes of you. So it'll have to be this instead." He drew an ancient-looking scroll out of thin air and rolled it out on the dirt. It went on for metres, coming to a halt just as it reached Kevin's foot. Staring down at it in awe, Kevin was completely silent for a moment.

"I-I haven't even told you what I want yet!" he exclaimed.

"Go on, then. We haven't got all night. This remarkable piece of paper adapts to whatever conditions you mention. No need to worry about that. Only the small problem of suspecting me of conning you." A look of complete confusion crossed Kevin's facial features. Crowley seemed to be enjoying his puzzlement. He shrugged. "You won't know if I'm being honest or not. That's the fun of it."

Kevin realised he wasn't going to get anywhere by pursuing that matter, so decided to begin stating his negotiations. A minute later, the demon responded, nodding his head.

"So… you desire intelligence. Bit odd, you seem clever enough to get by. That's humans for you, so _needy_. Anyway, not my place to question. Is that it? I need to be off, things to do, people to kill. You know how it is. Or not." Crowley's demonic tendencies resurfaced every now-and-then.

"Not-not quite. I'm not s-stupid, you know!" though Crowley wasn't convinced. "I don't want to have the knowledge of my death on my mind for the next ten years. Could you, somehow, wipe my memory, or something? I don't know if you…" Kevin trailed off, knowing that if the demon could teleport and control fire, causing brief amnesia would be a piece of cake.

"Hmmm, you _are_ clever… No-one in the history of all the crossroads deals has been clever enough to come up with that sneaky detail. I suppose I could… Of course I have the abilities, the point is if I'm willing or not. Then again, a deal's a deal. If that's all, sign here and I can finally go back to my masseuse. And you, back to your newly successful shortened life." Crowley handed Kevin an equally ancient pen and the contract.

"I know, we really need to update our technology. Even Hell needs to stay modern in order to be -what do they say nowadays? - 'down with the kids.'" Crowley remarked as he saw Kevin staring at the old pen. Kevin ignored him and began to sign his name, recoiling slightly when he saw that the ink was blood-red.

"Well, good doing business with you. Oh, I almost forgot. It'll be morning and you'll wake up in your own house in a moment. Not that it matters. Unfortunately you won't remember my gorgeous face, but anyway. Your loss." Raising his hand, Crowley snapped his fingers dramatically, grinning at Kevin as everything went black.


	3. Chapter 2

A few years later, Crowley was relaxing in his office back in Hell after checking over the paperwork. He decided to turn the TV on (Hell had finally gone through some technological advances) and check the news, just to have a laugh at what idiotic misdemeanours humans had been up to now. The first story was a review of the situation with those pesky Winchester kids; the sightings of them since they had supposedly died in jail. Crowley vaguely figured he'd have to watch out for them in the future, however the older brother had a deal that was due in a few months. That'll be interesting. Another story about a burglary in Wisconsin, a double homicide in South Dakota. Just the usual boring rubbish.

As he leaned back in his cushioned chair with a glass of whiskey (Craigs, his favourite), a story caught his eye. It was completely uninteresting at first, yet soon captured the demon's limited attention span when he saw who it was focused on.

"_A young boy from Michigan wins international Mathematics championship at just thirteen years of age. He solved the challenge in record time, against competitors twice his age. Here we see him celebrate with his proud mother…" _The camera showed a familiar looking boy smiling joyfully with a woman in her early forties who Crowley assumed was his mother. It took a moment, but the King of the Crossroads recognised him as the boy who made a deal with him when he was nine-years-old. Kevin Tran, his name was. That boy sure was famous in Hell. Half the demons couldn't wait to meet him in six years' time. And 'meet' is the delicate term.

"Huh." Crowley grunted as he took a sip of alcohol. Nice to see someone appreciating their new skills. But, to be fair, he doesn't exactly remember making the deal. _Silly kid_, he thought. He actually reminded him of his own son from when he was human. But more intelligent. Crowley shivered. Those were not days he liked to remember.

After reminiscing for a moment, Crowley switched off the TV with a slight flick of his hand. Anyway, he needed to conjure a masseuse. The demon had to feed his hedonism regularly. If he spent all his time deliberating over the lives of all the pitiful humans who had sold their souls, he wouldn't get to make any more deals. Or, more importantly, indulge himself in the finer things in life.

Another 4 and a bit years later

"A PROPHET?! That fake mathematical genius is a bloody prophet?" Crowley yelled at his demon accomplices. They shifted nervously from side to side, averting their eyes from the King of Hell's furious expression. "And not only that, but you two clowns are telling me that the WINCHESTERS have got him!"

"We're sorry, sir. It's not our fault…"

"NOT YOUR FAULT! You know, I don't have time to listen to your stupidity." Crowley drew a demonic knife from his pocket and drew it across the first demon's throat, creating a red smile that spurted iridescent red across the room. The other demon's face was a mask of pure horror as Crowley stepped towards him and thrust the blade into his stomach.

"Honestly. This is a brand new carpet as well." The King of Hell sighed irritably as the two monkeys choked on their own blood, gasping for breath (like they needed it) and whispering for help.

After helping the Winchesters with a weapon to take down the Leviathan leader, he believed they owed him a little respect. And stealing a prophet that was going to die in two years anyway was not the right way to go about it. Well, he couldn't confront them about it now. Moose and Squirrel were taking down Dick as he stood there. Besides, confrontation wasn't really his style. No. He'd give the Hardy boys a taste of their own medicine and steal the boy back. Not that Kevin belonged to him in the first place. Well, technically his soul did.

Since it was likely that Dean and Sparkles would go to Purgatory (oh yes, he knew about that) after killing Dick, Moose would be all by himself which would leave the perfect gap for Crowley to grab the prophet and leave. Then, as well as scoring a point against the Winchesters, he could get Kevin to translate the demon tablet he recently acquired.

Strolling out to the corridor, Crowley found two more demons whom he considered more suitable for his next job and dragged them back to his office, sitting them down on two chairs he conjured. Leaning on his desk, he explained the situation to them.

"So, I need you two lovely lads to wait here, and then, when the Hardy boys have gone, I'll give you a lift over and we can grab the prophet." The King of Hell tilted towards the slightly anxious demons and lowered his voice. "Just to let you know, if you do this, a promotion may be on the cards." Their faces lit up. "But, if you don't… you'll be the next on my personal torture rack." Crowley smiled angelically as the demons gulped. "So… You up for it?"

"Um, yes, sir." They accepted, knowing that if they refused they would surely be worse off.

"Fantastic!" Crowley clapped his hands together gleefully, feeling somewhat more optimistic than a few minutes ago. "Let's rumble."

Shortly after seeing the Winchesters depart (well, one of them and the angel), Crowley felt the need to have one last torment with Moose (Oh, come on! How could he resist an opportunity like that? After all, he was a demon.) Gigantor was turning from left to right, taking his long hair with him, looking lost and alone, despite the fact that Kevin was with him. Crowley appeared in front of him.

"Where are they, Crowley?!" Sam panicked.

"Can't help you, Sam." Crowley taunted back. Snapping his fingers, the two demons teleported at either side of Kevin.

"Sorry, Sam. Prophet's mine." Snapping his fingers yet again, Kevin disappeared along with the demons. After a little dig at Moose, Crowley followed them to a warehouse that he had carefully selected, and was also where the prophet would be spending many of his days; at least until the demon tablet was translated.

"Oh, hello again, Kevin. Bet you didn't expect to see my pretty face so soon, did you?" Crowley knew the boy wouldn't understand what he meant, but the demon preyed on human's confused emotions. It was so amusing.

"W-wha? W-who are…" the boy began, but knew he wasn't going to get an answer.


	4. Chapter 3

The warehouse was creaky, rotting and in the middle of nowhere, which creeped Kevin the hell out. No one to hear his screams, and all that. In order to prevent him from escaping, there were demons stationed at every doorway, and also a couple (the same two who brought him there) looming over him from the other side of the table. Kevin was drained enough after translating the Leviathan tablet, so already resented the demon one.

Even after ordering his minions to give Kevin a manicure, pedicure and haircut to make him comfortable (though he suspected it was some kind of psychological blackmail), the boy felt extremely uncomfortable in the presence of the King of Hell. Nervous and on edge. He had a right to; he'd just been nabbed from two brothers - who, yes, treated him pretty badly, but were surely more trustworthy than demons - been dumped in an abandoned warehouse and was now being forced to decipher yet another tablet against his will. Talk about 'from the frying pan into the fire'.

After spending a few days translating, Kevin came up with a devious plan and managed to escape the clutches of the King of Hell and his demon minions. On the run, he tried calling Sam so many times he lost count, so eventually gave up. He was probably dead. He began to think maybe he should have stayed with the demon. He was actually better off there than on his own with barely any money and nowhere to go. At least he was fed and tended to. Crowley treated him rather well, for the King of Hell. Almost… fatherly. Kevin found himself wondered if Crowley had had a family or any children when he was human. If he ever was. He also pondered over his future. The rest of his life, running and hiding from demons and angels and running to hunters that won't answer their phones and have no regard for him. Is this it? Maybe.

Or maybe being involved with the Winchesters and all the prophesy rubbish would cut short his life. Kevin didn't want that. He just wanted to be a normal kid. Was that too much to ask?

Over the next couple of years, Kevin was kidnapped, tortured, escaped, found the Winchesters and was made to translate another tablet. He was still completely clueless about the deal with Crowley and the hellhounds that would soon find him.

Crowley, on the other hand, felt more and more like he needed to protect the boy. He felt like a guardian of sorts, despite torturing and kidnapping him over and over again. But he had to keep him away from the Winchesters. They were a bad influence and only made Kevin hate him. That was a reason why Crowley killed his girlfriend. He didn't need those kinds of distractions. Not when his death was on the cards.

The King of Hell would have told Kevin about the deal, but at first he didn't have the time, not when the prophet had to translate the demon tablet. And if he told him now, he would blab to the Hardy Boys, who would then proceed to kill him. Or force his way out of the deal, at least. And a deal's a deal. No matter how much it pained him.

Now that Crowley was chained up in the Winchester's basement, and the conclusion to the deal was approaching rapidly, there was nothing the demon could do. Apart from tell Kevin as a last resort on the day the deal was due, or at least warn him. So he waited until the Hardy boys had gone out, presumably on a hunting trip, then began to taunt.

"Kevin. Oh, Keeeevinnnn…" The demon's voice drifted up from the torture chamber, his sing-song tone patronising to the boys' ears. Kevin paid no attention to him at first, figuring he was just being annoying for the sake of being annoying, but Crowley was persistent.

"Oh, come on, Kev! Not gonna just ignore me, are you? I thought we were friends!"

The young prophet sighed, gazing at the indecipherable angel tablet and the paper next to it with proto-elamite cuneiform symbols written on it. He had no tablet to translate anymore, well he could translate it into the other language, but Crowley could figure out what that said, which sucked for him. Because of this, Kevin was pretty useless to the Winchesters, so occasionally worried if he could stay with them any longer, or would they kick him out? Well, they were practically family now, despite the boys having forced Kevin to translate three tablets now. He tried not to be bitter about that, but his irritation came out every now and then, especially when he was tired (which he often was). Kevin was sure he could stay until he found a permanent place of his own.

Until then, he had to cope with the King of Hell, who was locked in their basement, trying his patience. Kevin shook his head. He often marvelled at how completely ridiculous his life was.

"Kevin…" There he went again. Honestly, that demon couldn't keep his damn mouth shut for two seconds. _I'll just go humour him_, Kevin reasoned. _If he starts to get on my nerves too much, I can just walk away_. The boy never had much patience with Crowley. Then again, who did?

Sauntering downstairs, the echo of his own name bouncing around his mind, Kevin made his way over to the shackled demon. The second he saw Crowley's triumphant face after lifting the heavy double doors open, he regretted ever coming down. But to be fair, he got extremely bored pacing up and down the bunker when Sam and Dean were out hunting. Although he was his sworn enemy, Kevin admitted it could be rather amusing conversing with the King of Hell sometimes.

"What do you want?" Kevin asked bad-temperedly.

"Nice to see you too, Kev." He always had a sarcastic response to everything. However, this time it appeared as if he actually wanted to talk about a serious matter. "To cut to the chase, have you ever considered getting out of here? I mean, the Hardy boys are only using you for their own benefit. They wouldn't bat an eyelid if you weren't a prophet. Doesn't that prey on your tiny little mind?"

It did, of course, but Kevin wasn't going to admit that. Especially not to a demon.

"You could just leave here, find your old college friends, have a bit of a break. Sure, Sam and Dean would come after you, but they do have more pressing matters to tend to at the moment. And if you left a nice little note explaining your feelings-"

"Shut up. You're just manipulating me." Kevin was extremely suspicious of Crowley's tone.

"Now, would I do that? I'm just saying, take a little R&amp;M. It'll do you good. Papa knows best." Crowley seemed a little desperate to get Kevin away from the bunker, to get him to run, despite his indifferent attitude. It made Kevin even more wary, yet curious.

"Why do you want me out so badly?" he stared at Crowley intensely, narrowing his eyes. "Are you planning something?"

"What, can I not even care about my dear friend's well-being now without being accused of plotting some evil endeavour?" Crowley gave an exasperated laugh. "Wow, you really have been in the Winchester's company for far too long."

"At least they actually care about me." Kevin's patience was running thin already.

"Anything to help you sleep at night." And again, with the cynical counter. Well that was the final straw.

"Enough, already!" Kevin slammed his hands down on the table, yet Crowley didn't even flinch. "I don't give a damn about you, and you don't give a damn about me, okay? So quit the pretence! Hell, I don't know why I even listened to you in the first place."

With that, Kevin turned away, slamming the doors with as much force as he could muster, and left Crowley in the dark, alone. _Screw him!_ he thought. What was he even thinking? He should listen to Sam and Dean in the future and not allow Crowley to provoke him.

"Wait- Kevin. Kevin!" Crowley yelled, a note of panic detectable in his voice now. There was no way Kevin was going back in there. He would wait until Sam and Dean got back, and maybe not even then. Freaking demons, man. Kevin shook his head as he walked back up the stairs. He was sick of the sight of the bunker, so decided to step outside for some fresh air. He was sure the Winchesters wouldn't mind.

Kevin hadn't realised how late it was until he opened the front door of the bunker. The darkness was all-consuming; there weren't even any stars to break up the absolute black above him. It was eerie. Even the trees seemed to grin evilly at the boy, mocking him, as if they knew something he didn't. Something bad. The prophet tried to disregard that uneasy feeling of trepidation, however it was difficult to simply dismiss. Instead, he closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing in the cool night air in a steady pattern to calm him down. In, out. In, out. In-

A deep, guttural noise arose from the bushes a few hundred metres away, unnerving Kevin immensely. Now, that was something he couldn't ignore. Just as he was debating whether to go inside or check it out, another growl sounded, only closer this time. In even less time, the howl escalated into a full-out bark, the inhuman wildness of it ripping through the once-silent night, infecting the surroundings with fear and confusion. Kevin was no hunter, so he had no idea how to cope with such a scenario other than scream and run, however his feet were stuck to the ground in horror, causing his whole body to be frozen in place.

The creature was closing in now, only a few metres away, which was when Kevin noticed there was more than one of them. Judging by the volume of the various wails and yelps they were emitting, he guessed three as a minimum. Although they sounded so close, the most terrifying aspect of the whole thing was that they were invisible. When a razor-sharp claw nicked Kevin's leg, drawing blood instantly, he finally kicked into action. Even though he was barely six metres away from the door, it seemed like six hundred miles as his legs pumped fast in order to get the petrified boy out of danger. His heart beating hard in his chest, his lungs burning from lack of oxygen, Kevin felt a large paw slam into his back, knocking him over as he desperately screamed for help. But no one was coming to save him. Not this time.

The rest of the pack of invisible dogs (though Kevin knew they were more than that) jumped on him in less than a second, tearing at his clothes and then, when they were no more than a pile of shredded rags, at his bare skin, transforming his chest into a bloody mess. Kevin screamed until his throat was raw and covered him blood that had been spewed up from his multiple punctured lungs, then resorted to silent tears that rolled shakily down his cheeks, their saltiness seeping into open wounds, but the extra bit of pain went unnoticed as Kevin inhaled his last breath. He was gone, and the hellhounds receded, their job complete.


	5. Chapter 4

"Told him to run, huh? Like hell you did! You should have seen the look on the kid's face – he was completely shocked, he didn't have a clue what was happening to him. Well, you'd probably enjoy seeing him like that, wouldn't you? Hm? WOULDN'T YOU?!" Dean's rage was uncontrollable now as he finally lashed out, almost knocking the chair over with the sheer force of the punch he delivered to the self-loving demon. Castiel, hovering in the background, knew better than to intervene when Dean was in that mood. Reeling from the blow, the King of Hell felt a spark of dangerous anger flare up in him. Crowley didn't feel at all like what Dean described. He was well aware that when the Squirrel looked at him, all he saw was a monster. But that wasn't the case. Crowley wished he could explain himself, but he wouldn't be able to without blowing his cover as the one who made the deal with Kevin. _Damn it_, Crowley cursed mentally. _This human blood addiction isn't doing me any favours. Pfft. Feelings. _

"Look," Crowley pulled his head up, wincing slightly and stretching his bruised jaw. Dean interrupted before he could go on.

"So if he died from your damn hellhounds, he must have made a deal when he was – what? Nine years old? What kind of douchebag forces a kid – a _kid_ – to sell his soul? Well, my vote's on you. So you better start talking. And quick." He pulled up a chair from the corner of the room and settled on it right in front of Crowley, his hard expression studying his face.

The demon spat a globule of blood out before continuing. "I don't know what else to tell you. I'm sorry about your little lapdog, really I am, but there's nothing I can do about it. If he made a deal, it was his choice and his choice only. And they're irreversible, as I'm sure you know better than anyone, eh, Squirrel? Whoa, whoa, whoa, watch the face! This is precious cargo, you know." Crowley teased as Dean stood up, about to start throwing punches again. Honestly, Crowley thought demons could be violent, but humans (especially hunters) were… admirable, actually.

"Dean." Castiel beckoned his boyfriend over, and with a sigh, Dean reluctantly got up, but not before glaring at the King of Hell, as if to say 'Don't you dare say a word'. Cas himself squinted his eyes at Crowley, but looking more confused rather than threatening. They stood in the corner, having a whispered conversation that Crowley could still hear, being a demon and all. The gist of it was that Squirrel wanted him dead, and the angel was trying to talk him out of it. Rather convincingly, as well. Eventually, after a few furtive glances at the demon, staring into each other's eyes and more sighs, the petty-minded pair made their way back over to him.

"What's the verdict, Your Honour?" Crowley jested, raising his eyebrows nonchalantly at the angel and hunter respectively.

Dean looked like he was on the tipping point of a decision. Anything said now would influence him drastically. Castiel could see this (_Damn celestial beings_, Crowley mused internally) so began to speak, turning away from the King of Hell, towards the squirrel.

"Like I said, we need him. We don't have to like it." After staring intently at each other for another few minutes, seeming to be having a silent conversation, Dean aimed his gaze back at Crowley, who raised his chin, a defiant expression apparent in his features. The mere sight of his face infuriated Dean, Crowley could see that, but he swallowed his anger and remained as calm as possible.

"You can stew in your own juices a while longer. But don't get comfy." Staying silent, Squirrel led the way out of the torture room without so much as a glimpse back in the demon's direction. Castiel looked relieved as he followed suit a second later.

Left alone in the darkness once again, the King of Hell let his mind wander back to the night he made the deal with the naïve young boy…

_"A-Are you… a crossroads d-demon?"_

"_King of, actually. Name's Crowley."_

"_A nine-year-old kid offering up his soul? Quite a biggie…"_

"_So, the deal. How does it work exactly?"_

"_Well, good doing business with you."_

Once Crowley got out of the Winchester's grotty basement, he'd have to check up on Kevin. The boy must be so scared, alone in a gore-splattered cell, wondering what the hell happened to him and where he was. Well, the prophet was clever. Crowley was sure he'd figure it out pretty quick. The King of Hell wouldn't be able to break his eternal torture, however he could certainly have a little chat with him now and again to lighten him up. He wished it didn't have to be like this. Then again, it was nice to have the tables turn: here on Earth, Kevin was at ease while Crowley was trapped in a basement, whereas in Hell, the demon was in his own territory and Kevin was the one imprisoned. The only difference was that Crowley could feel comfortable anywhere, as he tended to make those around him uncomfortable, even in their own place. He doubted Kevin had the strength to do the same. Crowley actually wondered how long it would take the boy to break under the constant pain and bloodshed. If it took the older Winchester brother 30 years to begin torturing souls himself, then certainly less for Kevin. The King of Hell would find out soon enough.


	6. Chapter 5

Kevin Tran screamed for the thousandth time as the black-eyed monster carved a terrible pattern into the bare skin on his chest with a freshly sharpened blade that was already tainted with the blood of many helpless victims. He had established that this place was Hell a long time ago. There was no question about it. The demon smiled malevolently as he dug deeper, taking immense pleasure in the contorted expression on the boy's face.

"Please… Please stop…" Kevin gasped, every breath he inhaled wracked with pain. Crimson fluid oozed from his wounds and scorched fiery paths in his clothes and skin, mixed with acidic tears that had leaked from dull eyes subconsciously.

"Sorry, what was that? I can't quite hear you." Grabbing Kevin's hair viciously, the demon leaned his horrid face close to his, so close that Kevin could detect every scent in his vile breath – rotten meat, stagnant saliva and decaying flesh. Tracing the point of the knife along Kevin's hairline, the demon gradually began to scalp the struggling boy, making sure to be as slow as possible, savouring the moment as Kevin writhed and thrashed about under his iron-tight grip. After a few more excruciating hours of torture, the once-prophet's skin was a complete mess, so much that his features could no longer be identified. He was entirely torn apart, physically and mentally. Even the dried blood plastered to every area of exposed skin had dried blood on top of it, and dried blood on top of that. Then, just as Kevin thought his agony was finally over, just as he thought he was dead and could escape somewhere else, anywhere else, he blacked out and his body was repaired, a clean canvas for a different demon to paint more suffering with a whole new instrument of torture. This had happened daily for the past fifty years, and was showing no sign of holding up. Kevin had no idea how he'd lasted for so long without trading his torture for someone else's, but something kept him going.

Fifty years of pain and distress, seeing no one he knew or recognised, only demons whose minds were set on causing him as much harm as possible. Quite regularly, the demons took on the form of Sam and Dean, just to add a little more psychological scarring into the bargain. Those were the worst days. Kevin was sure they picked the most ruthless torturers to play the roles of Sam and Dean. Despite all the worst demons visiting him, the King of Hell (if he still was) never made a guest appearance. It was probably for the better, after all he was likely the one who sent him down there in the first place. But one familiar face (excluding 'Sam' and 'Dean'), even Crowley, might break up the sessions of torture a little.

As for the King of Hell, the throne was still, quite rightly, his. The Winchesters had freed him shortly after Kevin's journey downstairs, needing him for various jobs. And once he got out of that damned basement, there was no way he was going to let the Hardy boys lead him back in. Crowley visited them regularly, either to help them along with a rogue demon/angel who was proving a challenge (though always ultimately to his benefit) or to ask a favour in exchange for something. Their 'friendship' was truly heart-warming, however Sam and Dean had never forgiven him for Kevin, despite the fact he never admitted to making the deal.

Crowley never did take a stroll to Kevin's Hell cell for a chat, or anything else for that matter. He just couldn't bring himself to do it. The only time he went anywhere near it was to gaze through the door. When he saw Kevin, the boy still had hope in his eyes, but it was fading fast. The kid was stronger than expected – he'd refused to torture other souls day after day, his altruistic ways forcing him to cope with the agony rather than shift it onto anyone else. His spirit was truly admirable.

And so it stayed that way. Until one day, Crowley heard news of another soul giving in. The King of Hell usually ignored that kind of trivial gossip, however had to pay attention when he heard whispers of its name. He may have not visited the ex-prophet, yet he never forgot him.

As Crowley paced down the scream-filled corridors, a feeling of anticipation rising within him, he fended off questions from various nescient demons before reaching the blood-stained door of the cell he had peered into all those years ago.

Two of his minions stood with Kevin, thrusting a gore-coated blade into his hand. The boy appeared extremely anxious and timid, staring down at the weapon with a sense of doom. The soul of a girl in her mid-thirties cried out for help, pleading them not to harm her, thought it was obvious from the tone of her voice that she knew they would not relent. After he had stood there unresponsive for a couple of seconds, (although Crowley couldn't hear them) the demons seemed to be mocking him and bullying him; it was almost like one of those common instances in school playgrounds, when two popular kids are daring the wimpy kid to do something that would likely get the kid into trouble. Then, probably to shut up the demons, Kevin grabbed the blade tightly and cut gingerly into the girl's collarbone. The demons yelled at him, Crowley suspected it was to tell him to cut deeper – he knew he would if he was the one mentoring the boy, or anyone for that matter. Demons were renowned for their lack of patience.

Every day, after he'd finished his exhausting paperwork, the King of Hell returned to observe Kevin's progress through the window of the cell door. He was becoming more ruthless by the day, yet still had moments of reluctance. However, every time he did hesitate, the demons (whichever ones were supervising) soon knocked him into shape. Unfortunately, the boy never seemed to develop a sadistic streak like Dean did in his time in the underworld.

After fifty years or so of witnessing Kevin torturing souls, Crowley decided to pay him a face to face visit. So, dismissing the demons who were on duty that hour, he swung open the cell door dramatically and strode in. Kevin had his back turned on the demon, panting after a particularly intense session of torturing, so didn't notice Crowley's arrival at first.

"Hiya, Kev." The King of Hell greeted the boy casually, shutting the door with a flick of his hand. Kevin whirled around instantly, open-mouthed in shock at the presence of the demon he had expected to see sooner, and then accepted he wouldn't see him again.

"Yeah, I didn't think I'd come either. Been busy with the Winchesters, those crazy kids." He lied. "I had to see how you were faring with the whole torture thing. Come quite a way, haven't you, prophet?"

Kevin was silent. Beads of sweat rolled down his red cheeks as he attempted to control his erratic breathing, which wasn't helping him calm down. His lifeless eyes glared at Crowley with such intensity that even the King of Hell felt slightly uncomfortable.

"Okay, as I'm not one to beat around the bush, I'll get straight to the point." Crowley advanced towards Kevin, his hypnotic tone simultaneously infuriating and soothing the boy. "I've come to…shall we say, nurture your torture skills to ease the lessons of Hell a little for you. I'll mentor you for an hour a day and focus on your weak points to aid your development as a minion of Hell. Those other demons – useless creatures, might I add – set the ball rolling for you, but under my tuition you can flourish. And people think the King of Hell isn't nice. Now, you don't have to accept, but it _is _recommended, so-"

"Who says I don't want to do it?" Kevin interrupted. _Looks like he might be developing that hint of sadism after all_, Crowley speculated.

The demon kept his word, and day after day he would train Kevin in his torturing ways. The boy's torture mannerisms that became apparent through mentoring were much defined. He was becoming his own person in the underworld, blossoming like a flower in the spring. Hell wasn't just paperwork and hookers anymore for Crowley. He actually had something interesting to do.

But the King of Hell's lessons with Kevin took on a whole new level of interest in one session, when Kevin was taking particular pleasure in the torture of a selfish man who had sold his soul for the bailout of his bank's incompetence. The ex-prophet's weapon of choice was only a short, blunt throwing knife, but it was surprising the amount of pain the boy could instigate using such a tool. Kevin was twisting the knife around and around in the man's shoulder while he screeched like a little girl, grinning at his pained expression. Crowley was going to leave him to it, as he was coping spectacularly well, when he turned around.

"Am I doing it right, Sir?" His voice was warped, sinister as he stared expectantly at the King of Hell, his face splattered with congealing blood and his outgrown fringe matted with gore. But that wasn't the most alarming thing about him.

Crowley thought it was the terrible lightning of the darkened cell at first, or the angle his hair was at, but no. He wasn't seeing things.

Kevin's eyes were as black as the night.


	7. Chapter 6

Kevin didn't know the exact point when his soul became corrupted. He was too involved in enjoying the feeling of the man's flesh distorting under every twist and turn of his knife. But now he could explicitly feel the darkness of his non-existent soul racing through his veins, like a wild animal claiming its territory. That sensation was actually rather satisfying; it made Kevin feel so much more powerful - invincible, almost. What he now was became evident the second he turned to the King of Hell, who wore a triumphant yet distantly horrified expression.

"Well, well, well. This little prophet really has come a long way." Crowley mused, studying the newly formed demon with an indifferent concentration. If the boy was going to prosper in the underworld, then Crowley had no reason to feel guilty over his death. Although the King of Hell was strongly opposed to the idea of fate, he couldn't help shake the feeling that perhaps Kevin was meant to make that deal and become his full potential in Hell. Crowley vaguely wondered what allowed Kevin's soul to become so twisted and demonised so quickly. It had to be a strong emotion, and by strong he meant positively overpowering. He knew the boy despised him, but he didn't lash out at him at any point, which would be out of the ordinary if Crowley was the subject of his hatred. There wasn't really anything else he could think of, apart from Kevin's bitterness towards the Winchesters, but he didn't think that strong enough. Ah well, he supposed it didn't really matter.

Crowley considered training him, however demons generally learned from first-hand experience, plus Kevin appeared much stronger than most new born demons. No, he could meet some more of his minions in Hell first, and then he'd find him some outfits to choose from – and by outfits, he meant vessels, naturally.

Leading him down the corridor, Crowley introduced Kevin to various demons and gave him a brief tour of the most important rooms, as it would take an eternity to take him around all of Hell. They wound up in the King of Hell's office, where Kevin perched on a luxurious leather chair, and Crowley took up his usual position of leaning on his desk.

"So, that's enough you need to know. Obviously we have certain rules here, otherwise it would be complete anarchy, but you'll learn them along the way. Any questions plaguing your tiny mind?" Crowley casually poured himself a glass of Craigs, reluctantly offering Kevin a shot, but he shook his head, refusing. A couple of ancient books flew off the wooden bookcase standing in the corner of the room and knocked a bowl of blood (used for communicating) off the desk due to the inclination of his head, spilling the thick red liquid over another brand new rug. Crowley tried not to look annoyed as he settled the now empty bowl back on the mahogany surface with a vague gesture of his hand.

"Oh…Sorry, Sir." Kevin apologized awkwardly after acknowledging the fact he had kind of wrecked part of the office of the King of Hell a moment after sitting down. Apologizing wasn't in demon's nature, as he was now learning.

"…No worries." Crowley replied after a moment of irritated silence. Yet another carpet ruined by blood. Honestly. "So, any questions?" He repeated.

"Can I return to Earth yet?" Kevin inquired.

"Soon, my boy, very soon, but first we need to find you a stylish vessel to hitch a ride with. Have you got anyone in mind?" Crowley almost added 'Apart from the obvious people you know' before realising that would be insulting his intelligence. And it wasn't a good idea to provoke a new demon. That was when they were at their most destructive. _That's probably why Kev wants to go back to Earth,_ Crowley speculated. _It's always good to blow off some steam. I encourage it._

"Would I be able to possess my human vessel? I know I'm all mutilated, but is there any way to heal me, ready to be possessed?" Kevin's words snapped Crowley back into reality.

"Hmmm, it would be difficult and likely take a few decades, but sure it's possible. I'll get someone to locate the grave, that is if those Winchesters didn't give you one of those so-called 'Hunter's Funerals', but if not - what's that old saying? Oh yes, Bob's your hellhound… Something along those lines."

Once Crowley's cronies had found Kevin's body (thankfully no 'Hunter's Funeral' was on the cards, just a burial in Kevin's home town of Michigan), they spent forty years repairing and revamping the vessel. The King of Hell often wondered why he was bothering to do all this for the boy, but he figured he was still in the state of mind of wanting to make the kid comfortable. Plus it was a way of gaining respect from his newest demon. Finally, when the vessel was ready to hold Kevin the demon and Crowley had taken it to Earth ready for Kevin to possess, Crowley permitted the boy to return to Earth.

"Unfortunately I'm unable to join you on this one, I've got a stack of paperwork as high as my kill count back in my office, so you won't be graced with the constant presence of my beautiful face. Have fun out there." Crowley told Kevin just before departing, however he sent a couple of demons on a covert mission to report back if Kevin got out of hand. A demon's first trip back to Earth was often eventful or sometimes even ended up disastrous. Kevin didn't need to know that.

* * *

It was strange for Kevin, returning to Earth when everything was so different. He saw it all in a new light – well, 'a new darkness' would be more appropriate wording. The demon gazed around for a moment. It was night, but there were no stars out, so normally he wouldn't be able to see much else, however his heightened vision as a supernatural creature enabled him to see so much more. Every intimate detail, from the veins on leaves to specks of dust on his shoes. It made him feel considerably more comfortable with his new form. He was finally at peace with the darkness of his soul.

Although there were many places Kevin could visit (immediately, too, with his teleportation skills), he knew exactly where he was going. Keeping his location in mind, he closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he was there.

The bunker was the same as the last time he saw it, yet this time he could spot all the invisible charms and sigils with his demonic vision. Kevin knew he would have to remove them all before entering, but had the power to do so, and besides, he was in no rush. Silently yet efficiently, the boy cancelled each and every one of the devil's traps and Enochian sigils, enabling him to enter the bunker. He knew his targets would be there, as the old Impala was resting on the grass outside.

Kevin decided to walk in rather than teleport, for dramatic effect. It was funny how he became addicted to drama and sass since becoming a demon. Perhaps spending so much time with the King of Hell had rubbed off on him. As the doors swung open, no one was watching at first. Then, hearing the commotion, the older Winchester brother exited one of the many rooms, looking slightly dishevelled. _I must have woke him up, _Kevin remotely wondered. It wasn't like they got any sleep. Dean swung his head in all directions, looking alert, until he spotted Kevin standing above him by the doorway. Then his expression changed from vacant to extremely confused to realisation.

"Kevin? Kevin, is that really you?" He whispered, awestruck. "But… How? No, no wait – Sam! Sammy! Get yourself over here!" Dean called out for his brother.

Kevin remained silent, a knowing smile spreading slowly across his lips as the youngest Winchester stumbled out of another room, looking equally puzzled. As soon as he saw what his brother was gesturing at, he understood.

"You can't be… This-this isn't good. Dean, stay back. Dean!" But Sam couldn't do anything before his brother got thrown against the far wall, falling to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Sam looked up in shock, his head switching between Dean groaning on the floor and the demon (it was evident he was no longer Kevin) staring triumphantly at him from above.

"Hello, Sam, Dean. So nice to see you again." Kevin began walking ominously down the stairs to the bunker, slamming the doors shut with a flick of his hand. "You're probably wondering what's going on, huh? Well, Sam's got it figured out. Unfortunately your brother is not so clever." Dean picked himself up from the floor, his battle face now on as he glared soundlessly at the demon.

"Kevin… Don't do this. We can work things out-" Sam attempted to talk him round but Kevin interrupted.

"No. My mind's made up. Not even your pansy words can influence me now. I've been in Hell for such a long time, being tortured and torturing souls myself before becoming a demon, and I've never felt better!" He laughed loudly and clearly, looking extremely proud of himself yet simultaneously manic.

"Why are you doing this?" Dean contributed. He was always the direct one. Kevin's head snapped in his direction. He began advancing gradually towards him.

"Because I'm Kevin freaking Solo. And because the only thing that got me through those two hundred and forty years down below was my profound, unrelenting hatred for you two." As he let those cutting words sink in, Castiel appeared.

"Dean. You haven't contacted me in three days so I thought I should-" Castiel cut off immediately after seeing the warped and twisted demonic face of Kevin Tran. He looked to Dean for an explanation, who simply shook his head, a sincere expression on his face.

"Oh, Castiel! How nice of you to join us. Things were just getting good." Kevin was the only one seeing good out of the tragic scenario before them, as he clapped his hands together in glee and beamed at the three doomed people in the room. "No need to be shy, tell us what you're thinking."

"What happened to you?" The angel sounded tremendously sad as he studied the demon's face. His eyes squinted suddenly as a thought occurred to him. "Did Crowley do this to you?"

"What's it to you if he did or not? It makes no difference. Here I am, spelling out your ultimate destruction. Oh, this is going to be so much fun." Just as he finished his sentence, Kevin threw both the Winchesters against the wall, holding his arms out as he smiled maliciously at them both. Sam and Dean struggled against the demon's iron-tight hold on them, their eyes pleading with him to let them go. In the background, Castiel could see there was no other way out of this than to kill Kevin, demon or not. But before he made his decision final, he wanted to verify it with the Winchesters, as he knew they would never forgive him if he made the wrong choice. Once Dean's eyes locked with his, he knew his decision was the right one.

Teleporting behind the demon, Castiel's angel blade slipped out from his sleeve and he raised it high, dismissing any feelings of guilt. Kevin, sensing the angel's presence, whirled around and grabbed the blade with lightning speed, stabbing it into Castiel's stomach without hesitation. Dean and Sam were released from the spell because of the demon's actions. The angel confusedly looked down at the wound, which was leaking blood at an alarming rate, despite the blade still being inserted. Cas then looked back up, and as the angel and demon stared into each other's eyes, Kevin ripped the blade out, causing Castiel to drop to the floor.

Everything was in slow-motion as Dean ran over to the angel, yelling his name with tears already streaming down his face. Sam slowly stood up, feeling an overwhelming pang of grief for his fallen friend, yet not quite knowing what to do. Kevin simply stood completely still, clutching the angel blade tightly as it dripped Castiel's blood onto the floor, drop by drop.

"Cas. Cas, listen to me. Don't you dare leave me, you son of a gun. I need you. We all need you. Don't let it end like this, not like this." Dean's words were forceful yet desperate as he cradled his angel, rocking him back and forth like a new born baby.

"Dean…" Castiel whispered barely audibly, as his consciousness faded fast. "You need to get out of here with your brother. Save yourself. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Go…" His eyes closed, but his breathing remained shallow.

"Cas. CAS!" Dean sobbed, looking over to his younger brother, whose expression was smothered in sympathy as he stood there, defeated.

"How could you, Kevin?" Sam genuinely questioned Kevin's actions as the demon turned to face him.

"I… didn't mean to do that. But he got in the way. Not my problem." Kevin replied nonchalantly, but with a hint of guilt.

"Just let us go, and we won't come after you, I promise." Yet again, Sam tried to negotiate with the demon.

"Sorry, but I can't let you go that easily. Plus, I'm not worried about you coming after me. You should be worried about me coming after you." Kevin's eyes flashed black, like the colour of the sky outside, as he began to stroll towards them.

"Whoa, Kev. You might want to calm down a little there." All three people shifted their attention to the newest arrival. Crowley.

"What the hell, Crowley?" Sam shouted furiously at the King of Hell, who looked slightly embarrassed and concerned, much to his surprise.

"Yeah, you better start telling us what the hell's going on here, or I swear…" Dean left his threat open as he spoke with a cold, sinister anger. Kevin remained in a shocked silence.

"It's Kevin's first trip back to Earth as a demon, as I'm sure you've gathered, no matter how little your brains are." As the two brothers glared at Crowley, bombarding him with wordless threats, he realised he probably shouldn't insult as often as usual. There's a time and a place, after all, even for the King of Hell. He reduced his tone to a rugged whisper directed at the Hardy boys, so Kevin wouldn't (well he still would but common courtesy) hear.

"Look, I knew he'd probably injure some folks, maybe smash up some houses, but I didn't know he'd come back and try to kill you! I promise!" Sam and Dean weren't convinced, but what choice did they have with a powerful demon intent on their murder on their hands?

"Crowley. You're not here to stop me, are you? Because we both know how ridiculous that would be." Kevin finally spoke to his King, however his emotions were running too high to maintain respect for him.

"Of course not, Kev. But now's not really the time. I only meant for you to have a little sneak around, and there's so much paperwork to fill in." Crowley knew he was failing to persuade the unruly demon, but he couldn't do nothing. He needed the Winchesters. Not for sentimental purposes, he wasn't that kind of guy, but for his own benefit. He didn't like it, but he knew the Hardy boys had a mutual feeling, otherwise they'd have tried to kill him by now. In fact, they would have killed him by now.

"I can't stop, Sir. Sorry." There was no detectable note of apology in Kevin's voice as he raised his blade high above his first victim, but not before Sam slashed a deep knife wound in the demon's arm. Yelling furiously, Kevin jabbed his blade with the other arm, missing Sam by a whisker. Then, as the demon almost landed a perfect hit, Crowley teleported into the middle of the deadly scuffle, causing the fatal blade to stab him right in the heart.

Everyone froze, their mouths open in shock. Crowley stared at Kevin with dying eyes, somehow accepting the situation, knowing this was how it had to end. Either that, or Kevin would have had to die.

"It didn't have to end this way. You shouldn't have tried to stop me." Kevin speculated monotonously as his mentor's life slipped away in his arms. Crowley's dead body slumped to the floor, a thin red line crawling from the edge of his unsmiling mouth.

* * *

Back in Hell, Kevin stood before the entire population of demons, who were expectantly awaiting his words.

"I bring you bad news." He proclaimed, his voice resonating through all of Hell, and the demon's minds. "Tonight, the previous King of Hell perished in an inevitable battle. Although many may mourn his passing, he died foolishly, protecting a couple of humans who did not deserve to be saved." A ripple of chatter spread throughout the crowd, upset, angry and unmoved emotions apparent in the murmur.

"So, since I witnessed the death of the King, and as I am the closest to the heir to the throne, I bid you to bow down before me." The demons were confused yet obeyed Kevin's order, as a victorious smile conquered his expression.

"Your King."


End file.
